The Parentheses Returneth

Y’know, I wasn’t anticipating taking any notes on this trip – but I guess that airline travel just has that effect on me; I’ve written before about how oddly inspiring I find the environment. Of course, that’s likely just bullshit romanticization – it’s an environment where I’m forced to wait around without the distractions of the internet or video games or ALL THE PORN IN THE WORLD.

(The latter is probably going to be my Lenten sacrifice, which reminds me that this flight is costing me my Ash Wednesday mass. So if this vehicle is reduced to a fiery canister of death, who knows just where I and my unbesmirched forehead might end up?)

(Heh. Right. Because *that’s* the sin that’ll do it. Not a lifetime of reckless self-indulgence.)

(Speaking of which, and rendering my original thesis less romantic still, the other factor in my sudden return to blogging may be the fact that my outgoing flight was delayed – and that my departure gate was nestled tightly against an Irish Pub. Jameson: the tenth muse.)

(Irish pubs in airports? Truly, human civilization has reached its apex.)

(I also know that I’m blogging again when I use, like, five sets of parentheses in a row. Jesus.)

(Okay, six.)

***

So here I am on a flight to New York – a city I’ve been to only briefly, though long enough to cement an enduring dislike of the place. (Among my pet peeves: the way New Yorkers characterize living in a miserable, unlivable place as some kind of shared cultural experience. Then again, I’m a fucking Minnesotan, so I probably shouldn’t talk.)

Off to visit my sister. One of the goals I set aside when I shut down my company was to reconnect with my family – a major regret of the last decade is that my focus on work has often precluded those relationships.

So I’m delighted for the opportunity to reconnect with a segment of the family I don’t get to see nearly often enough. At the same time, I find myself restless – I’m so accustomed to traveling for work that traveling without that purpose feels…decadent, somehow? I find myself more anxious, more irritable, without that underlying structure of marketing, meetings, and performances.

That said, it’s not a complete pic-a-nic; I am hoping to get out to investigate the FRIGID Festival, which stands as shameful proof that there’s a part of my brain yet that hasn’t wholly abandoned the idea of touring. There’s a couple of groups from Minneapolis this time around, and I’m curious to see how their numbers are; I’ve heard that this can be a rough town for out-of-towners.

(There’s also a few colleagues from the area that I was hoping to grab a drink with. One of the greatest payoffs for the amount of time I’ve spent touring is the fact that I’ve now got people to look up in just about every state.)